by M. Ullrich
Suzanne laced their fingers together and the two women ascended the boat, both filled with excitement for the evening to come.
*
“I expected the strawberries and chocolates when I saw the champagne, but the macaroni and cheese with cut-up hot dogs was a surprise.”
“Well, I do know the fastest way into my wife’s pants is by cooking her favorite foods and making sure she’s liquored up.” Marty took another sip of her champagne and settled against the mountain of pillows beside her wife.
“So, this whole evening is about sex?”
“No!” Marty’s eyes grew wide. “I wanted this evening to be about us and the love we have for—” Suzanne cut her off with a kiss. “Mmm.” Marty’s gentle hum of approval vibrated against Suzanne’s smiling lips.
“I know we love each other.” Suzanne paused to take the champagne glass from Marty and placed it to the side. “But let’s focus on how hot we still are for each other after marriage and a baby.” She turned her body and pressed her full length against Marty.
“I am still quite enamored by you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more.”
Marty met Suzanne’s demand with a tender, nearly salacious look. This had been a common occurrence since the birth of their daughter. Though most of her insecurities had been banished, Suzanne reveled in Marty’s superior way with words when it came to describing the passion that continuously burned between them.
“Even though we often fall asleep with a child between us, it doesn’t stop my mind from wandering.” As Marty spoke, she traced the outline of Suzanne’s jaw with the tip of her index finger. “Being at work and dealing with clients doesn’t distract me from thoughts of you either.” Marty ghosted the pad of her thumb over Suzanne’s full lips. “Sometimes all I can think about is how you taste.”
Suzanne couldn’t contain herself as Marty’s words caused her hips to jerk forward and she ran her tongue along Marty’s thumb. Marty’s nostrils flared, and she inhaled sharply.
“I love you, Marty.” Suzanne rested her weight on one elbow as she raised her free hand and cradled Marty’s cheek. “I don’t tell you that enough.”
“You show me every day.” Marty beamed.
“I know,” Suzanne rolled her eyes at the sudden emotion causing her voice to waver, “but I need to tell you more. I don’t think you realize what your eyes do to me, or that crooked smile you love to flash so often.”
“My smile is crooked? I thought that was the only straight thing about me.” Marty feigned shock, and Suzanne pushed at her.
“You’re funny, but you need to shut up and let me say this.” Suzanne looked at Marty as she mouthed a silent apology and then smiled. A torrent of butterflies let loose low in Suzanne’s belly. Even a breath full of therapeutic bay air did little to calm her racing heart and quivering insides.
“It took me a long time to get comfortable with the idea of essentially belonging to another person, but I think that’s the greatest lesson I’ve learned from being married to you. Marriage isn’t about belonging to someone, but belonging with someone.” Suzanne laced her fingers around Marty’s. “I was so stubborn, and you pushed right past it.”
“I demolished your stubborn walls.”
“You did,” Suzanne agreed before swallowing against the lump that had formed in her throat. “I love you so much. I love waking up to the sound of you getting ready in the morning. I love listening to you as you read a book that’s particularly frustrating or suspenseful. Your breathing changes, and you shift around like you have ants in your pants.” They both giggled lightly. “You’re so strong in all the ways I’ll never be, and you never hesitate to show me your weaknesses. I love that.” Suzanne leaned forward and kissed her gently.
“I love your scent. Especially right here,” Suzanne traced the delicate skin where Marty’s neck met her shoulder. “Your skin is so soft, I could get lost in it for hours.” She trailed her fingers down between Marty’s breasts. “But most of all, I love your heart because it chose me for some strange, unbelievable reason. Out of every person in this world, you fell for me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am so, so lucky to call you my wife.” A tear slid down the side of Suzanne’s face.
“Since when are you the wordy one?” Marty said before she pressed her lips to Suzanne’s.
“I say all that, and you had to be a smartass and make a joke?” After one more firm kiss, Suzanne pulled back to give Marty a chastising look.
“Of course,” Marty said before lowering her hand to the button of Suzanne’s dark wash jeans. “I know how uncomfortable you get when I put too much focus on your emotional moments. So instead of talking, I’m going to show you just how much I love you back by worshiping every inch of your gorgeous body.”
“Oh. Oh!” Suzanne gasped as Marty targeted the damp patch on her panties and applied just the perfect amount of pressure to the spot. Her eyes rolled back slightly before closing completely.
“Look at me. Before I lose you to my impressive talents, I want you to listen. Are you listening?” She punctuated her question with a pinch to Suzanne’s engorged clit.
“Yesss,” Suzanne hissed.
“I fell in love with you, but you took a chance on me. You could’ve had anyone. I am the lucky one.” Whatever words Suzanne could conjure up died on her moist lips as Marty pushed her cotton panties aside and sank into wet heat. Suzanne’s inner muscles contracted immediately around the pleasurable invasion.
Marty’s pace was slow and languid, torturous for Suzanne. She couldn’t move her hips fast enough, and the little room available in her jeans made it hard for all of her target spots to be reached in unison.
Suzanne growled in frustration. “Fuck this.” She pulled Marty’s hand from the front of her pants and stood. Within seconds, she’d stepped out of her jeans and underwear, straddling her motionless, and slightly surprised, wife. “Give me your hand.” Without any more instruction, Suzanne sank down on Marty’s two fingers and perfectly positioned palm.
She started moving slowly, but that pace only lasted momentarily before her movements became more erratic. Suzanne was about to ask for more—more fingers, more pain, more pleasure—but her wife already knew exactly what she needed. Marty bit Suzanne’s breast through her thin linen shirt. It wasn’t enough. Suzanne pulled back and haphazardly unbuttoned the blouse before pulling down the cup of her bra. Marty bit down again, sinking into creamy flesh and swirling her tongue around one stiff nipple. Suzanne stopped moving.
“God, yes.” She ground her hips down into tight circles, Marty applying just the right amount of pressure to her throbbing clit. Suzanne’s stomach started to tighten, a coil of earth shattering pleasure wound tightly, low in her belly. “God, right there.”
“You know, if you keep calling me that—”
Suzanne silenced her with a kiss. “Don’t stop!” She gripped a fistful of Marty’s hair and gave it a hearty tug. Kissing was nearly impossible at this point. Suzanne breathed raggedly into Marty’s mouth.
Suzanne’s orgasm was fast approaching. Every sensation that had been clawing its way beneath her skin was settling in the small area of engorged, sensitive flesh between her quivering thighs. She was ready to be overcome with not just pleasure, but love and security and everything else that went hand in hand with being loved by Marty Dempsey.
“Yes!” The word echoed out across the bay as the water rippled along with her constricting inner muscles. Wave after wave shook through Suzanne and finally she collapsed against Marty, sated and ravenous all at once.
Marty stopped peppering small kisses along her damp hairline as Suzanne stood up. “What’re you…?”
Suzanne stood within a foot of Marty, discarding first her blouse and then the bra they had managed to work their way around earlier.
Suzanne was completely naked, illuminated by nothing more than the early evening moonlight and string lighting, and she had never fe
lt more beautiful than she did in that moment as Marty gazed at her hungrily. They had seen each other naked thousands of times, and Marty still looked awestruck. She strolled over casually to where they had initially dropped their bags and coolers and picked up the blindfold Marty had used on her earlier. Suzanne laced the silky material between the fingers on both of her hands and pulled it taut.
“I think it’s time for payba—”
“WOO!”
Both women jumped as a loud cheer and a low air horn echoed in the distance. Suzanne dropped to the deck gracelessly, a loud thud and smack accompanying the movement. “It’s too dark. They couldn’t have seen me.” Marty lay back beside her wife and pulled a blanket over both their bodies while her laughter slowed to a steady chuckle.
“Judging by the thumbs up you received, I’d say the moon is brighter than you think.”
“No!” Suzanne’s head whipped up, and she stared at Marty’s playful grin. “You’re just messing with me.” She narrowed her eyes dangerously.
“Am I?”
“You better be.”
“Or what? Will it be time for payback?” Marty started to lean in for a kiss, but Suzanne’s warm lips were nowhere to be found.
Suzanne didn’t get her payback that night, but an unsuspecting Marty was a wonderful subject to prey upon for the whole following week.
Chapter Eleven
Suzanne tossed another shirt to the side, writing it off as imperfect for the occasion. A night out at a bar was far from formal, but it still mattered to her that she looked good. Other than Marty’s barbecue, Suzanne hadn’t spent time with anyone outside of family or Blake. She wanted to avoid others questioning her well-being and emotional status, something she always found funny. People could be so invasive if they thought you were on the brink of an emotional breakdown.
“Are you sure you don’t want me there?” Blake asked from the doorway of Suzanne’s small bedroom. Why did he have to phrase it that way?
“It’s not about wanting or not wanting you there.” Suzanne stared at her open closet.
“I can drive you and pick you up, in case you have a few drinks.”
“I don’t plan on drinking.” She pulled out a blouse and appraised it for a moment, imagining herself in a bar wearing it. It didn’t work.
“Are you pregnant?” Blake’s question caused Suzanne to drop the hanger she was holding.
“What? Why would you ask me that?” Suzanne’s mind reeled. Was Blake listening in on her conversation with Carla the other night?
“I don’t know, I mean,” Blake scratched at his chin, “your mood has been all over the place lately, and now you’re heading to a bar with no plans of drinking.”
“Blake, a lot of people go to bars and don’t drink.” Suzanne laughed at his idea of pregnancy symptoms and nearly asked if that was what he had learned in nursing school. She spared him the sarcastic quip, not wanting the conversation to escalate into an argument.
“And I found the tests under your bathroom sink.” When Suzanne looked at Blake, his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked cocky, like he had her right where he wanted her. “Are you pregnant?” he asked again.
Suzanne was at first annoyed, feeling like her privacy had been invaded, but she had told him to treat her house like his own when he stayed over. That’s what engaged couples did. But this was unexpected and something she had planned on keeping between herself and her sister.
“No, I’m not pregnant.” At his blank stare, Suzanne knew he needed more of an explanation than that. “I had a brief irrational moment, so I took a test.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“There was nothing to tell! Can we please just drop it?” Suzanne stripped off her shirt and tossed it in the direction of a laundry basket, missing. She grabbed the first tank top she saw and pulled it on.
“Will Marty be there?” Blake questioned meekly. Suzanne looked at him, but he was looking at the floor.
“She will be, yes.”
“That’s good.”
Suzanne narrowed her eyes. “It is good.”
“You two have been talking a lot lately.”
“Just say what you’re thinking, Blake,” Suzanne said in a huff. What’s his problem tonight? She crossed her arms and stood defiantly, ready for this tense conversation to go another round.
“I’m not thinking anything really, I’m just making an observation. That’s all.”
“Sounds like more than an observation.”
“And you’re getting very defensive.” Blake’s voice started to rise. He wiped at his face roughly and adjusted his glasses before approaching Suzanne. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not starting a fight, I’m just trying to figure out a way to ask if there’s anything I need to worry about.”
Suzanne pulled back. “Like what?” Blake’s jaw tensed and released a few times. Suzanne wasn’t sure how to read that.
“I love you and I trust you.” Blake grabbed Suzanne’s hand and held it to the center of his chest. “But you’ve been spending time with Marty and talking to her a lot. Now you’re insisting I stay home when you’re going to meet a group of friends at a bar…” Blake let his sentence drop off. He already said the minimum needed to insinuate everything.
Suzanne looked deeply into his chocolatey eyes and saw no malice, just a hint of jealousy laced with insecurity. She didn’t intend for the next words out of her mouth to be a lie, but she didn’t want anyone getting hurt. “It’s a girls’ night.”
*
Marty had been both anticipating and dreading this night out for a while. She didn’t feel right celebrating anything, let alone one of her friends gaining another year to her life. Having a small get-together at her own home to prove to her friends that she was, in fact, surviving was completely different. This was cheery music and laughter and smiling. It all made Marty feel guilty, but Annmarie wouldn’t accept no for an answer.
The loud music was thoroughly distracting. The thundering bass and the loud clatter around Marty had pulled her attention in fifteen different directions since she had walked through the worn wooden door an hour earlier, but that was two beers ago. Before she saw Suzanne walk up to the bar.
“Marty?” Hearing her name jostled Marty back to her present company. She turned and looked at Annmarie. “Did you listen to a word I said?”
“Of course!” Marty’s features twisted comically, as if she was offended by such a question.
“So, has that ever happened to you?” Annmarie’s dark eyebrow raised sharply. Marty knew she was caught, so she might as well play along.
“Yes?”
“You’ve found a dead body in a vacant home before?”
Marty choked. “You what?”
“I knew you weren’t listening to me. I can always tell when you check out.” Annmarie chortled lightly before turning to see what she was looking at. Suzanne was standing just on the outskirts of their small group, waiting patiently for the bartender to pay her the appropriate amount of attention. “Speaking of checking out…”
Marty scrunched her nose at her friend’s implication. “I wasn’t checking anyone out.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Annmarie bit into her martini olive. She chewed slowly, and Marty wondered if she was expecting more of an explanation or if the subject would be dropped. “You look worried.” Annmarie sipped her drink. “I thought you said you two were in a good place.”
“We are.”
“Then why do you look terrified?”
“Look around us! It’s been a long time since we’ve been out like this.”
“Well,” Annmarie slid a bit closer and continued in a voice that could barely be heard over the music, “it’s a good thing you came separately, then.” Marty shot her a confused look. “If things get awkward, you can make a quick exit without doing any harm.” Annmarie shrugged and finished her drink. “I’m going to the bathroom.” Marty was left alone.
Suzanne was thirty feet away. Marty stoo
d still, the bottle of beer dripping condensation along her numb fingertips, and gathered her waning courage. Why was she so nervous now? Why did she care so much about what her friends would think if they saw them talking? These were people she barely heard from after the divorce and only received sympathy cards from in the mail after Abigail’s passing. Charlotte and Annmarie were the only friends who checked on her regularly, and Marty knew they did the same for Suzanne. So why did it matter what Bonnie and Steve or Carol and Teresa thought at all?
“This is ridiculous,” Marty grumbled under her breath and set her beer down on the bar before advancing on Suzanne. As she approached, she noticed Suzanne eyeing up a full shot glass. It looked like it could be tequila, but Marty wasn’t sure. “Hey.”
Suzanne threw back the shot like the experienced drinker she wasn’t, turning and smiling bashfully though a disgusted grimace. “Hey, yourself.” Suzanne’s voice was deeper thanks to the burn of the alcohol. A few droplets glistened on her lower lip, and Marty watched transfixed as they gathered in the middle. Suddenly, those lips were moving again. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to be here,” Suzanne turned her attention to the full pint of beer the bartender handed her. “Thank you.”
“I wasn’t sure if I would be either, but you know how persuasive Annmarie can be.” Marty flashed a sideways smirk. Before Suzanne could agree, Marty said, “No Blake?” Her curiosity really would kill her one day. She could hear her mother’s voice screaming from the back of her mind, Leave well enough alone!
“No.” Suzanne looked at her glass. “I told him we were having a girls’ night.” Both women looked over to the table of husbands before looking at one another once again. Marty tried to school her expression, to wipe her face free of any obvious intrigue or surprise. “I’m weird about him being around my—our friends.” Suzanne sighed in resignation and gulped her beer like it was a marathon runner’s first bottle of water at the finish line.
Marty nodded noncommittally. She really didn’t know what to say to that. If she had been seeing someone new, she’d probably feel the same way, but if she really cared for the person it really wouldn’t matter. “Is it because he’s a man or because they’re our friends?” Marty dared to ask.